


thus always to tyrants

by mudfrog



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, Female sex organs, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 15:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudfrog/pseuds/mudfrog
Summary: It's been months since the betrayal. Catra finds Double Trouble at the Mayor's gala, and can't help following them for some payback.She doesn't get payback.
Relationships: Catra/Double Trouble (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100





	thus always to tyrants

**Author's Note:**

> This is complete filth. I told myself I would never write cartoon smut and here I am, breaking that rule the moment I saw Double Trouble.
> 
> I'm sorry.

The Mayor’s re-election is met with muted surprise. Horde, given their growing position, is afforded the luxury of a formal invitation, golden seal and cream coloured papers. Catra uses her fingernails to cut the envelope open on a Monday afternoon, wrenched from her office waiting. She had been _waiting _so long to be invited, she doesn’t know, then, why _anyone _ is so _surprised _to see her. 

The alternative is Hordak. The man has been mute since they got him out of the holding. Someone’s done a number on him, and Catra is too busy holding his shitty operation together to coddle him. 

Big brother had sought her out personally, and she can hold him off, she _can. _

The tidy little jazz bands stand at the corner of the hall, the chatter of people. Vague faces she remembers only from old files, and she flicks a button on her collar open in irritation, slinking back against the wall. 

It is a cacophony of wary, despondent children, the great families plucked and made to dance. 

Catra is tired, if she were to look past the heavy curtains, she would see only darkness. The estate walls caging her in. 

She downs the champagne flute in one go, just about to say fuck it, to leave anyway- 

And she sees them. 

Fur so thick it seems alive around their slender shoulders and a dress so tight it might as well be a fucking bodysuit. Their hair is pulled in a high ponytail, their eyes slide over towards her, and they_ wink. _

That’s about all Catra notices before she sees red. 

Double Trouble slithers out of the hall without so much as a look over their shoulders, and gods help her, she follows. Bound by some splintering in her chest, she goes, unable to help herself. 

The flicker of a tail at the end of the hallway. 

A teasingly dark alcove, and within it a room. 

She kicks the door close behind her, hearing it bounce quietly. No tell-tale click. It’s some sort of spare room, an ostentatious globe sitting at the corner, paw-footed couch against the foot of the bed, tilted towards each other. 

Double Trouble lounges against the cushions, hiding their smile behind their hand. 

It’s audacious, it’s familiar- _infuriating. _

As if thoughtless, Catra finds herself crossing the carpet. 

Double Trouble’s smile is wide, “Darling,” they murmur, and their smile is reflected in the silver gleam of the dagger’s blade, their chin, tipped upwards, turning gently to smile at her. Their composure reaches between her lungs and_ squeezes _, and it seems instinct then to gather her strength and shove it further against their filthy, filthy throat. 

Her knees knock against the heavy arm of the chair, a noise rips out of her, a monster with deep, rasping breaths that she doesn’t recognise, that she hears only alone in the darkness. 

“Do_ not, _ ” tumbles out of her cracked, peeling lips, quicker than she can call back, shove into her again, _“ _Call me that.” She snarls, “You have no right to call me that,” 

They make a small, tutting noise, and when they click their tongue to smile placidly at Catra, mockery playing across their black, beady eyes, “Oh,” they whisper, and when they push themselves forward, so that their breath fans across her lips, her grip slackens. “But that’s what I call everyone, and doesn’t it burn to know?” 

“Shut-” 

“That you weren’t,” Double Trouble inhales, and a cold hand curls around the side of her face, “Special.” 

And something stupid happens to Catra. Her breathing catches, the way it always does, when Double Trouble, with their dark lashes, the long slope of their cheekbones, their _damned _rumbling voice, touches her. That burning that comes with the ease of their hold, actor, liar- that they seemed to have touched her many times before, stealing biting kisses in the dark. 

Returns to the years before, when she held the city in her hand, eyed this newcomer with a goal. Return Adora for the wrongs she had been dealt – scrawl her name across the check and let Double Trouble play the role. 

Between the moon and the cracking brick wall, watching them play their tune, she’d not hoped, had not _wondered _. 

And she’s doing it again, making that mistake again. 

A shadow flickers behind Double Trouble’s steady pupils, a shift she catches only too late. Long fingers twist her wrist, a fist around her collar. She barely gets the shout out, rearing back, when there’s a mouth on hers. 

The knife clatters, forgotten, onto the carpets. 

She hadn’t known then, that she had crawled into their lap, and they cradle her face, breathing her in with a ferocity she wants to crumble against, tongue sliding into her mouth. 

_ Oh, she knows this. _

Something in her fills up, the hollowness of a thousand yesterdays burned away with the careful digging of cool thumb pads into her shoulders. 

Double Trouble kisses like they’re at war, and Catra feels as if she would die if they stopped; she’s hungry, she’s_ ravenous _and she wants to taste everything in them, everything that they are, slip into their mouth and into their body. 

Her hands wind around them, tug down the silver zipper of their dress. The distant part of her that hasn’t gone dark with stupidity is surprised when she’s met with no resistance. Peels it off them until she can latch her mouth around the dark nub of their nipple, and its only their cold, cold body underneath her hand. Pulling away only to be drawn back in, shifting when their hand gently squeezes the curve of her breasts. 

Their frigid touch makes her pebble even under her clothes. 

“Predictable,” they say, hushed, parted wet lips against hers. She opens her eyes to watch the perfect line of their glitter eyeliner, how their eyes are closed but they draw chaste, lingering kisses from her in their disappointment. Their thighs are pressed together, that her warmth bleeds into them. 

It reaches between her chest and squeezes. 

_ Predictable. _She will show them, she peels her lips back to reveal canines, shucking her suit jacket, _predictable. _

They pull their gloves from their hands with flat teeth, and then reaches out to unbutton her work trousers, bronze irises unwavering on their work. 

“My wildcat.” they murmur, a puff of breath, all of sudden in the open. 

Shut up, she wants to say, cut off prematurely when their fingers begin to move, to rub between her legs, not strongly enough, not enough against the fabric of her panties. Seized by a shudder, she slams their mouth together, their bottom lip between her teeth, snarling. 

Double Trouble matches her with little slip, their head tipped upwards. Unable, unwilling, to hide their smile. 

“You ache,” they breathe, rolling their fingers, watching her buck against them with rapt attention, “And I want to ache with you.” 

Half snorting, half gasping, she presses her face against the underside of their jaw, as if Double Trouble will not feel the burning of her skin with the ferocious flicking of their fingers. “We get it,” she rasps, gnaws on the slip of skin between their shoulder. “You like to watch. Get your- _get them in me, fuck- _”

“Aren’t you flattered?” Double Trouble mutters, make no such move, pressing slyly around the swell of her clit. She keens, and finally, as if a revelation, they say, “You like being watched.” and pushes two fingers into her wet, clenching hole.

Her heart throws itself against her chest. She sucks in a quivering breath, grits her teeth and rolls her hips against curled fingers and says nothing. 

“All that attention.” they say, groaning into the tender flesh of her ear, “_Dearest, _you’re desperate for it.” 

There is a firm hand on her waist, digging into her skin. She shudders, and lets out a short scream, when long, clever fingers fuck up into her, setting a quick, brutal pace. “You _ chase _ it,” they mutter, and she reaches around their neck, pull them down so she lies on her back against the couch, thrusting back, only half listening to their stream of useless, _liar _words, “Always chasing and never,” 

Their fingers twist. 

“_Oh,_ you bas- _hah, nghhh!” _

You’re a loud one,” Double Trouble says against the skin of her belly, their hair falling over their shoulders. Their lips quiver, “You be quiet, kitten,” they whisper, their eyes half-lidded in the din, “Or Big Brother will want to know what the fuss is about.” 

Catra chokes, writhing. Her nails dig into their scalp,_ ohhh... be quiet, _is replaced by a keening babble, each thrust driving deeper, and Double Trouble hums. 

“Or maybe you like that,” they mutter, just once, before sliding down her body to suck on the puffy, bud of her clit in one rough stripe. 

Back arching and toes curling, her hips spasms coming. The scream rips out of her in a hoarse, high cry, gushes over their fingers. Throughout, closing her eyes, she can remember their bright eyes, watching her. 

In the shadows, breathing deeply to keep herself coherent, Catra draws herself into something resembling a sitting position, reaches out with sloppy hands. Pushes Double Trouble back against the arm rest, hears their soft, surprised _oomph. _ Strips of white light paint their skin grey, the loose lines of their dress look like flower petals in bloom. There is resistance there, but only a split second, and her companions obeys easily. 

She suspects through blurry thoughts that it’s curiosity that allows her this. 

“I want to taste you,” she means to demand, bring back the sense, to do something and not let herself be played. That amusement grinds at her like a stone wheel, but all that comes out is a hoarse plea, thin and hollowed out- 

_ Fucked out. _

Wrong, she thinks fuzzily. Double Trouble spreads their slender legs, and the sharp heels of their dress shoes dig into her back. Their hand slips into place around her jaw, slides to her hair. 

“Oh,_ kitten_,” they whisper, underwater and thick, guiding her head down gently, “_Yes.” _

They aren’t wearing panties, and Catra has the time to be utterly baffled before they tug at her hair impatiently, smoothing out afterwards as if in apology. She’ll show them. They’re glistening wet, the folds of them angry and wanting. 

She dips her tongue in and their entire body shifts, sighing. 

And then she fucks them with it, her tongue exploring the dips and planes, hungry,_ hungry. _She suckles on their clit with a force that makes them cry out, lifting their hips to meet her, and eventually she stops to match them, only leave her tongue unfurling and licking and sucking, as they grind down on her face. 

The noises they make are low and euphoric, quiet_ yes, yes- _their hands roughly handling her head, shaking her thoughts out until there’s nothing left. Until she moves lazily, automatically, her hips stuttering, wishing there was something between her legs. 

“I knew you'd be- you are _ perfect-” _ they gasp above her, a stream of words that slip into her head, that send a heated line down her lower back. _“J-just _like that_\- _” 

“_Oh gods, _I should keep you. Would you like to be kept, ki- _ kitten?_” 

She whines into them, jaw aching, but she hadn't needed to reply. The words had not been for her, but for Double Trouble, who became erratic in their thrusts, whose words became deep and lustful and stuck together until they become unrecognizable- 

They come over her face, a warm thick spill, their words staggered, and they choke on it. _Yes, _she hears them _c_ry, their hips slow, circling her mouth, sighing. 

_"_That’s it,” they coo softly, the long line of their throat revealed as they tip their head back, their arms falling limp beside them. “Oh, you’ve done so well." 

She moans, sucking them through the aftershocks, their rolling hips coming to a gradual stop. They pull her towards them, presses their lips together before they go rigid beneath her. Her eyes, having slipped close, peels open in a daze; they stare back at her, eyes wide and bewildered. 

“You’re wrong,” Catra says, watching Double Trouble slip towards the door, the lean line of their back as they stop, a hand against the doorway. Her tongue runs across the flat lines of her teeth, curling around the sharp points of her canines. 

“Wrong?” Double Trouble gasps softly, theatrically. When they turn their face, the light of the hallway cuts into the dips and planes. 

Catra takes them in. 

What have they been doing, she wonders, distantly. Their clothes are clean and clinging, a bodysuit unfit for the illustrious occasion. It resembles the one they'd met in, but of course, they’ve upgraded. Everyone does, leaving Catra. 

If she could keep a picture, tall and willowy. If she could keep them. 

“That I wasn’t special.” she says, swallowing, “You brought me here.” 

Double Trouble titters, sounding so mournful when they say, “And you were so easily distracted.” pretending, _liar _. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, wants to smooth her fingers over her temple. _ Easy, _that’s her. The silhouette burns in her mind. “You could’ve done that any other way.” She spits quick, breathy with desperation and an undercurrent of an old, sputtering anger, dredged and lost just as soon, “You could’ve distracted me any other way, I dropped my knife, you could’ve gone led me out.” Her voice trails, and her head tips to the side, and she rasps out a laugh, punched out of her in sharp, thin giggles, fading into something that doesn’t sound right, fragile in the dark, when she says, “But you didn’t.” 

_ Yo__u’re __drowning__,_they had said, in that junkyard when they betrayed her that night, the cops pulling up around the both of them. Where they’d sold her out, given her guns to the Alliance._A__nd __you would’ve __take__n_ _me down with you. _

Catra had drowned that night, but she'd clawed her way back, lungs full of water, sputtering, heaving. 

She opens her eyes in the silence. 

Light spills into the room, falling just short of the tip of her shoes. The distant sounds of the party approach her, surrounds her, clinking glass, polite laughter. 

Double Trouble is gone. 

Catra sits alone again, sprawled and left aching. 


End file.
